


Along with The Sun

by QueerLeFay



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Behind the Scenes BAMF Merlin, Canon Era, Eventual Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, a bit angsty, understanding arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerLeFay/pseuds/QueerLeFay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur knew what - who - Merlin was, but Merlin wasn't telling, so he decided to wait until Merlin's ready to come forth to him.<br/>At least, that's what he would have done if Merlin could just stop having those late night sneaking away, which render Arthur confined in front of his windows - worrying, fretting over him, asking himself if Merlin would come back to him, and he couldn't wait for too long, not when Merlin came back wrecked and hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along with The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This work is heavily inspired by Lord Huron's Lullaby.  
> That song makes me think of a world where Merlin would fight his secret battles (because his magic is still a secret - he liked to think) at nights, away from Camelot and how Arthur would be the one waiting for him, fretting over his wayward manservant. Because let's face it, Merlin did fight most of Arthur's battles for him and I just want him to get the recognition he deserves but did not get from the show, you know.
> 
> This is my first time posting so any feedbacks would be very much appreciated.

Arthur stood in front of his window, watching as the sun unravelled slowly, rays of pale light pushing the darkness of the restless night well over the horizon. As the sky brighten, he felt the lump that had resided persistently in his throat since early last night, and the heavy pressure on his chest eased up slowly; because there he was, the person he had been waiting for, walking through the courtyard with his shoulders slumped and head bowed down low, a slight tremor on both his hands. Arthur clenched his fists tight enough to draw blood as he saw how fragile he looked, so breakable Arthur feared he couldn’t make it to the castle ground and just crumble there…like a fleeting thought, like a memory-like dream, like a shadow.

But he knew damn well that he would make it, because the sun has arrived and he always arrives along with the sun. And Arthur had to retreat back to his bed and feigned sleep and annoyance at being woken up _at such hour_. And Merlin would open Arthur’s chambers door loud enough to wake the entire floor just because he could. Then Merlin would greet him with too much artificial energy and cheerfulness that Arthur detested the most. Because Arthur knew Merlin wasn’t home last night and Arthur knew Merlin hadn’t slept and Arthur knew Merlin didn’t go to the tavern – because Arthur knew Merlin was fighting his battles for him, alone and brave; lonely but proud. This, this was what Arthur hated the most.

Arthur was afraid that someday Merlin would disappear along with the shadows when he was supposed to arrive with the light. Arthur was afraid that someday Merlin would fail to right the wrong and fell victim in his stead instead. And more than anything, Arthur wanted to tell Merlin that he knew because he wanted to share the burden that he had inexplicably and unknowingly put on Merlin’s shoulders. Then Arthur was afraid that Merlin would flee and Arthur would lose him forever.

Arthur knew about Merlin, of course. What – who – Merlin was, all that he could do. He still hadn’t found out to what extend Merlin could do what he did, but he knew it must be powerful enough that Merlin _had_ to go and fight. He had known about him since the get go and he had come to accept it.  
Once, he accepted it to challenge his father’s accusations about the evilness of a whole diverse group of people with only _one_ thing in common. Because surely, if he had been almost killed by men (and women) with swords, if there were bandits that helped elderlies with their loads, if there were rulers that kept on taking from their subjects without remorse – then surely a whole race couldn’t be all evil and murderers. It was a careless experiment, true, but if he couldn’t dispute it first hand, then he would never know, would he? He had been given a chance to know in the form of a certain black-haired, blue-eyed, too-clumsy (peasant) manservant ( _warlock_ ) and he would damn well take that opportunity.  
Then, he had accepted because he had been saved. Physically and…and more than that. He had been saved from becoming his father. He had been saved from becoming a careless, thoughtless, compassionless ruler. He had been saved again and again and again, all without his outspoken gratitude or recognition, all done behind his back. And he learned the true meaning of ‘being genuine’, because even him, who had been bred and raised to be a noble knight, an honourable prince and eventually king, couldn’t have done everything – sacrificing everything (including but not limited to own life) without the overdue acknowledgment and praises.  
Now, he had accepted because Merlin was so…Merlin. Merlin had proved that magic was only a tool to be used – like a plough was to a farmer, like a sword was to Arthur. Merlin had saved him selflessly and tirelessly; enormously more genuine than any other person he had ever met. Merlin had given him honest council and didn’t hold back on his disappointed insults whenever Arthur was being unreasonable. Merlin had been frank and straightforward to him, infinitely more than any of his late father’s advisors had ever been.  
The truth is that, Arthur would never know what he could do with himself if Merlin ever left.

So Arthur faked ignorance and fretted silently, worried quietly, and played along with Merlin’s games.

“Get up, you lazy sod!” Merlin announced his arrival cheerily; throwing back the curtains Arthur had just closed a couple minutes back to reveal the glaring sunlight.

Arthur grumbled to his pillow, hiding his relieved sigh at having Merlin save with him for another day. (Arthur couldn’t say night because Arthur never knew what Merlin’s up to most nights and it still pisses him off because Arthur wanted to be there with Merlin, but he couldn’t because…Merlin might leave and what good a mad king could be for his kingdom?)

“I thought you’d start the day nicer now that I’m king” Arthur retorted, propping himself up. Merlin only smirked, preparing Arthur’s breakfast on the table with practiced ease.

Arthur sat up slowly and watched Merlin discreetly, looking at how he was because Arthur realized that he had became aware of Merlin. Aware of his expressions and what they meant, which was ridiculous because he was a very important and busy king who couldn’t waste his time learning about the mess that was his manservant. Peculiar mess, incredibly enticing mess – but a mess nonetheless. But there he was, being aware of the slight twitch of Merlin’s eyes whenever he lied to him or the differences between each of Merlin’s smiles –  
That moment, though, Arthur was only aware of the too bright, too cheerful grin that did not reach anywhere near his bruising eyes, of the tiny tremors on his hands as he poured water into the goblet, of the slouching of his shoulders, and the subdued expression full of guilt, hidden cleverly behind the made-up mirth on his eyes. More than anything, more than the lies and the secrets, this must have taken the prize as what hurts the most.

“Come on, up from the bed. I’m going to dress you and then you’re going to eat your breakfast before you could go and play fights with your knights. You also need to proof read the speech you asked me to write for you, by the way.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin continued to babble on about his day schedule and smiled despite himself at how normal this feels. Like Merlin hadn’t just snuck out in the middle of the night and snuck back in early before the citadel woke.

This, after all, wasn’t as bad as the one before because Merlin’s hands only trembled slightly as he dressed Arthur and his breathing wasn’t as laboured as the one before – when he last snuck out.

So Arthur let this one slid because he still couldn’t dare risk this fragile balance between them. Not yet.

\----

The next time Merlin went and fought his secret battle was three months after that last one. Arthur knew because that night, when Merlin helped him out of his armour and dressed him in his sleeping tunic and breeches, he was distracted and quiet, passive and pensive. Everything Merlin wasn’t if he was not about to go and endanger himself again. (The first time he suspected and eventually knew of Merlin’s late-night misadventures was after he miraculously cured of the wounds and the venom from The Questing Beast and Merlin had said that strange, half-concealed goodbye to him. He had then spied on him walking away and then back again to the citadel looking worse for wear, clutching on his chest for weeks after.)  
That night, Arthur had waited until Merlin left before he came to his window and wait. He watched the courtyard below his chambers, eerily quiet and pale under the moonlight and waited until he saw Merlin walked briskly towards the gates and disappeared.  
Then Arthur had forgone sleep to wait for Merlin’s return. He waited for the sun to shine to bring back his sun.

The night was long and silent…too silent. Arthur wanted to pace around his room to ease up his nerve but he couldn’t because if he left the window, he might miss Merlin. He might not see him coming back to the citadel, to Arthur. Twice, Arthur had almost snuck out to find him, but then, he did not know where he had gone to or what the situation was. He might ruin it for Merlin and what if he just makes things worse because he did not think things through? So Arthur stayed and waited by the window, praying to anything he could pray to, hoping, wishing for Merlin to come home alive and save.

Merlin did come back, slower than the sun this time, limping and looked as if he was about to crumble. And Arthur fret once again that he would lose Merlin before Merlin even had the chance to greet him.

When Merlin finally arrived in his chambers, it was much, much later than Arthur would have preferred because Arthur was worried sick that Merlin was hurt. He was so close into giving in and looked for him in Gaius’ quarters, but he stayed because it was Merlin and Merlin never failed him. Not even because of his secrets. Not even because he couldn’t trust Arthur enough to come forth.

“Arthur,” he started, opening the door gently, “Sorry I’m late” he stepped in and Arthur felt a pang in his chest. Merlin was flustered, his hair a right mess. His face was coloured with faint bruises and thin, white lines. He limped when he walked and Arthur could just make out scars under his ratty, rumpled jacket. There were traces of dried mud and blood in his fingernails and around his breeches and boots. What’s most disturbing, however, was that Merlin couldn’t even look at him in the eye.

“Gods, Merlin, what happened to you?” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from asking, but Merlin only laughed uncomfortably and forced a cheeky smile on as he looked up at Arthur, “Oh you know, got caught up in a brawl in the tavern last night. I should follow your advice to stop going there.”  
Arthur watched the twitch in Merlin’s eyes as he lied and he ignored the seeping sadness and anger at being lied to. Merlin, however, looked oblivious as he kept the artificial grin, “Look at you, already dressed. I know you’re not completely incapable of doing things without help”.

“Well I had to when my manservant was completely useless at coming on time” Arthur replied on reflex although bantering was the last thing Arthur wanted then.

“I know, sorry” Merlin replied softly, too soft for Arthur to even hear hadn’t he paid Merlin close attention and Arthur knew something was off. Because Merlin couldn’t even hide the chaos that was his emotion behind mirth in his eyes, instead, Arthur could see the dying fire behind the blue of his eyes and the trembling of his lips.

Arthur steeled himself. He couldn’t let Merlin suffer alone any longer. He had elongated this confrontation for long enough as it was, hurting Merlin and drove himself crazy along the way.

“Really, Merlin. What happened?” he asked again, holding his gaze steady, silently begging for Merlin to just look up at him.

Merlin shook his head, “Nothing, I told you – it was the brawl. Right mental they were. Have you had breakfast?”

Arthur swept his hands towards his table filled with too much food that George had snobbishly presented and Merlin grinned sheepishly.

“Merlin?” Arthur moved into Merlin’s space and reached out to his wrists, curling his fingers around it. He felt Merlin’s fluttering heartbeat under his fingertips and silently thanked something that Merlin was at least still alive.  
“I saw you…last night and the night before and the one before that…” Arthur said softly, voice almost a whisper and felt Merlin flinched under his fingertips, “Where have you been, Merlin? What have you done?”

Arthur looked up just as he saw Merlin’s resolve crumbling. He put his arms around Merlin’s shoulders just as he started to tremble. He pulled Merlin close just as his knees were about to give out.

“Were you out finding the troubles that were directed at me? Was that what you did?” Arthur murmured close to Merlin’s ear, drawing small circles low on his back. Merlin sobbed wretchedly once before finally throwing his arms around Arthur.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Merlin repeated over and over. He gripped on Arthur’s tunic, afraid Arthur would push him away if he let go. “I was just trying to protect you, I was…she was…” he stopped, drawing harsh breath after another.

“I know, Merlin. You don’t have to be sorry. I know…”  
 _I know about your magic, I know that you have been protecting me; I know that I love you. (And I know that I hope you do, too.)_  
“Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s shoulder shook almost violently and all Arthur could do was to keep an arm around Merlin’s waist as he rubbed his back soothingly; humming nursery rhymes quietly because he couldn’t give Merlin words of encouragement when he didn’t know what Merlin had done or why he was so wrecked and he couldn’t give Merlin words of endearment because Arthur was… _Arthur_.  
He was far too self-conscious to do so – feelings were too far out of Arthur’s depths.

Merlin chuckled quietly, “nursery rhymes, Arthur? Really?”  
Arthur smiled, relieved, and continued humming to Merlin’s ears until he quieted down and instead of the wretched sobbing and the too tight grip on Arthur’s shoulders, Merlin just sniffled and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulders tiredly.

“Come on, Merlin, you need to sleep” Arthur muttered when it was apparent that Merlin would not be able to talk and the fact that Merlin looked so exhausted and defeated made Arthur wanted to just bundle him up in a blanket and let him rest for at least a year. He pulled Merlin to his bed, gently pushing him onto the matrasses and tucked him into his blanket.  
Merlin looked up at Arthur with tired, bleary eyes and smiled, “I’m sorry, Arthur, thank you”

Arthur allowed himself several seconds to brush the hair on Merlin’s forehead aside as his eyes closed before he went to the door and told the guards to not let anyone in. He still had a kingdom to run no matter how much he wanted to curl up next to Merlin and protects him from the world.

\-----

“Would you be disgusted at me?” Merlin started as soon as Arthur stepped into his chambers that night. Merlin was seated in front of the fire, curled up on himself. He looked so small and frail Arthur wanted more than anything to hide him from the world outside of his warm chambers.

“Why would I be disgusted at you?” he asked instead of the ‘ _of course I will not, you big idiot. I will never be able to be disgusted at you_ ’ he wanted to scream at Merlin.

“Because I am a bad person” Merlin shrugged as if it was a fact. But it wasn’t because Merlin was anything but bad. He was kind, he was gentle, he was loved by every damn person in this castle. Even Arthur knew that he wouldn’t have half the loyal knights he had now if it wasn’t because of Merlin (somehow, he believed that Gwaine and Lancelot were only there for Merlin). He even had a sneaky suspicion that had Merlin wanted to take over the throne, most people in the castle would simply (and perhaps gladly) dropped to their knees in front of him.

“Yes, you are” Arthur cringed when he saw Merlin flinched, so he hastily continued, “you are bad at cleaning and be punctual. You are bad at acknowledging the people you were supposed to give respect to. You are a bad judge of character too, you know, do you think so little of me that you couldn’t even trust me with your secret?”

Merlin looked up with shock and apprehension in his eyes, he was about to say something before Arthur cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak.

“You are a bad person, Merlin, for not telling me when you need help. You are a bad person for keeping me in the dark, where I have to worry and wait for you at those nights. You are bad for trying to shoulder every burden yourself.”

“You knew?” he asked incredulously, “It’s not that, Arthur, I trust you without doubt. I just…I thought perhaps it isn’t the time yet, perhaps I could tell you once things were more stable, once Morgana…” Merlin stopped himself and shook his head, “No…you don’t understand. I am a terrible person. I am everything your Father warned you about magic” he held his breath, not daring to look up at Arthur, “I have killed people, Arthur, a lot of people. Most of them were my own people, my kind. I killed Arthur, I know I have my reasons, I know I will stand by it anytime still, and I want to think myself as a good person, I want to think myself as a…a protector. But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m the bad person…” his voice cracked.  
“I have killed people too, you know” Arthur kneeled in front of him, sticking two of his fingers under Merlin’s chin and tilted his head so that he could look at Merlin and Merlin him.  
“It’s not the same! You killed people in a battle, me…I kill people personally. I kill them without a slight remorse, without thinking and when it was all over…I…”  
“How is that different?”  
“It’s different!” he shouted, frustrated, “it’s different because I looked at them in the eyes, I saw the light went out of their eyes. It’s different because I have become this monster pretending to do the right thing. Righting any and every ways to get to where I want to be – where I want _you_ to be.” he spitted out the words harshly.

“Merlin…why did you do what you did?”

“Because I need to protect you, protect Camelot…” Merlin closed his eyes, and then snapped them open again, “but that could just be my justifications, couldn’t they?”  
“Before you killed them, did you give them a choice?” Arthur asked instead of arguing further.  
Merlin shrugged.  
“Did _they_ give you a choice?”  
Merlin shook his head. Then nod. Then shrugged his shoulders again. Then he slumped towards the back of the chair to support his back.  
“Then it’s their choice too,” Arthur declared, “I get guilty too, Merlin. I don’t know what you did or how, but when I fought in the wars we had, when I had to kill the enemy force, I feel guilty too. Because most of the soldiers, the knights, that I had to kill were only following orders – they were only being loyal as they should and they paid it with their lives. With bandits, well, it’s their choice, really – misguided choices, but a conscious choice all the same, so the guilt wasn’t as profound. You can’t run from the guilt, because it will always be there.” Arthur had taken to pull Merlin close, petting him gently, “when you have justified reasons though, when you protect what you must protect because it’s for the greater good, because it’s what you value most...when the other person was attacking…well, isn’t it essentially our primal instinct?”

“Does it justify murder, though?” Merlin asked softly, the sound muffled where he laid his head on Arthur’s shoulders. “We are not some barbarians, are we? We are capable of speech and perhaps I could have handled one or two things in the past better. I was…I was blinded by fear and I acted too impulsively and…the guilt doesn’t get washed away like the blood, Arthur.”

“What’s done is done” Arthur declared – because that’s what he always tells himself to keep from being mad with guilt. That’s what he convinced himself to believe when all was said and done. “You can’t change the past, but you can always better yourself for the future”

“Never thought I’d ever hear you so wise, my Lord” Merlin mused, getting jostled softly by Arthur as a respond.  
“I’m always wise, Merlin, you’re the one who never listen”

Arthur released Merlin and sat beside him, making Merlin scoot over some to let Arthur rest his back on the same chair. They did not speak for some time, just preserving one another’s warm presence next to them and watch the fire in the hearth crackling pleasantly.

“I’m sorry…” Arthur started, voice soft almost like a whisper.  
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Not to me, that is” Merlin cast a sidelong glance at him, quirking his eyebrow questioningly.  
“I do. I…perhaps I am the one that makes you feel like a monster for…you know, having to do the things that you had – have – to do…” he couldn’t look at Merlin, not when his insides felt like they had been punched. He thought that this guilt was worse than the guilt of killing anyone, ever. It wasn’t even just because he was Merlin, it was also because killing people, well, at least those people didn’t have to think about anything anymore. Merlin? He had to live with the guilt, he had to go on his days knowing what he had done and thinking over how he had done it. Selfishly, it wasn’t because of that. Selfishly, Arthur was afraid Merlin would someday hate him for (unknowingly) forcing him to do all those stuffs.  
When Arthur braced himself and turned to look at him though, he was pleasantly surprised to find Merlin smiling at him softly. Merlin reached out to him and threaded his fingers to Arthur’s hair; stroking it with so much care Arthur felt his chest swell.  
“I would do them all over again for you, if I have to, Arthur” he said with so much conviction.  
And it’s all very natural (and anticlimactic), really, for Arthur to cup his hands on Merlin’s cheeks and for them to move towards each other and kiss each other like it was all they had to hold on to.  
There were no big epiphanies, no big declaration of love because the feeling had quietly and steadfastly grow over the years they were together, through all the hardship and the celebrations, through all the insults and the limitless things they would willingly do to save and to help one another. The love they had was something that were always there and if they had only acted on it now? Perhaps it’s because there were no more secrets holding Merlin back and there were no more secrets that left Arthur afraid he would lose Merlin.

“This thing we do, me having a kingdom to run and protect, you having to protect me and this kingdom…it’s not without a price, is it?” Arthur mused grimly, holding on to Merlin like a lifeline.  
“Yeah…” he replied, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder, “but we’ll be great” he murmured, eyelids dropping.  
Merlin only got a couple seconds of silence before he heard Arthur chuckling and pulling away. He groaned, wanting Arthur to just stay put so that he could sleep then and there – Arthur was so snuggly.  
“Up from the floor then, Merlin. I think beds are more comfortable to sleep in” he put his arms around Merlin and pulled him up.  
“Your thinking is very basic, Sire.”  
“I’m not the one who almost slept on the floor!”

\---

It was a long night. It wasn’t because Arthur had to wait for Merlin in front of the window, fretting over whether Merlin would survive whatever it was or not – but because Merlin was in his arms and he was so restless in his sleep. Arthur wouldn’t even thought about it if it wasn’t for the distressed noises he made, the small, jerky movements he did every once in awhile and in one moment, he even had a sliver of tears. Arthur didn’t know if this was what he was like most nights, but he did know that it hasn’t always been this way. Merlin was never like this in those nights when they were out hunting and had to sleep close to each other for warmth.

So Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin and whispered nothing and everything to him. He whispered stories after stories to Merlin’s ears, he told him tales about the knights he was sure Merlin would laugh at if he were awake, he recounted Merlin’s own stories about Ealdor and his old friends – anecdotes about Will and about his Mother that Merlin never tire of telling – in hope that his voice would go through Merlin’s bad dreams and induce it with good memories so that he could sleep peacefully and dreamt of the times when guilt wasn’t even in Merlin’s mind.

Arthur didn’t know when Merlin had started to run around chasing Arthur’s problems and threats away. Arthur didn’t know exactly how Merlin had done what he did or the number of people Arthur had survived thanks to Merlin. But guilt won’t just go away. They won’t disappear just because Merlin now knew that Arthur knew and accepted it. They won’t disappear just because Arthur comforted him (well, what little comfort he had to offer anyway). So Arthur wanted him to get a peaceful slumber, he wanted Merlin to rest while he was unconscious and not feeling the guilt even in his sleep. And when the words failed Arthur and Merlin still had that pinched look in his sleep sometimes over the night, Arthur still had the nursery rhymes to sing to him, hadn’t he?

\---

In the end, it took Merlin another 4 months before he told Arthur everything he had done behind Arthur’s back since the very start of his service (friendship) to Arthur. By then, Arthur had worked on the ban on magic and Merlin had come forth to his and Arthur’s closest and most trustworthy confidants (well, his closest knights and Gwen, that is).

Merlin’s late night sneaking away had also changed to their quests now that Arthur didn’t allow Merlin to go off alone. Sometimes they even had several of the knights that had been trusted with Merlin’s secrets with them when the threat was too big to be handled alone.

And as for Merlin and Arthur, nothing had changed, not really. (Except, Merlin did start Arthur’s day nicer now. Sometimes, Arthur found him still in his arms, all sleepy and soft and warm from sleep. Other times, it was Merlin trailing kisses down his jaw or the other way around. And wasn’t it the best way to wake up to?). They were closer than ever, true, now that they had no more secrets drawing a wedge between them and now that they had acknowledged their deeper feelings for each other. No one questioned the fact that Merlin tend to spent most nights in the King’s chambers or that Arthur was anxious whenever Merlin wasn’t with him for more than a day. It was, after all, a public secret heavily guarded by every parties that the King and his (future warlock and consort) first advisor were happily and contentedly together. 


End file.
